In the Arms of the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 5)

Magpie swallowed against Beast’s hand, squinting. “Fine, but I’m not leaving until all of this is sorted out. I can’t trust the two of you with Marcel.”

There it was again. Magpie butting into a family that wasn’t his. Beast could turn a blind eye on it for now, because it was preferable to Magpie going psycho on them and kidnapping Marcel or completely going off the rails.

“Fine. Have your spy find a room for you,” he said, and walked off with a head full of icy fire.

If Laurent wanted to play the silent treatment game, then so be it. Beast would see if Laurent really could last that long without him.

Chapter 16 - Laurent

With his hair tucked into a neat man-bun, Laurent eagerly await his first day at work. He’d arranged for Elliot to pick him up, but Laurent was now angry with himself, that instead of getting his driver’s licence done, he’d succumbed to lust for Beast. A weaker man would have claimed it wasn’t their fault, but Laurent owned up to his mistakes and flaws. Beast was like the top shelf Belgian truffles at the supermarket. Irresistible, rich in flavor, and came at a significant cost.

With each passing day, Beast’s cold demeanor and complete lack of interest in him was an itch he couldn’t scratch if he wanted to keep his pride. He wished for their whole argument to be over, but such hope was in vain. The problem didn’t lie in differing opinions, but in the way each of them imagined their future, and both ways were incompatible. How was ‘true love’ supposed to help with such a dilemma?

At least now he’d have work as distraction, new people to meet and exchange ideas with. If Beast truly meant what he’d said and wanted to learn to love their child, then Laurent could give him another chance, but he would not accept whatever scraps were thrown his way any longer. He was a proud man, and he would not only earn his keep but also raise his child—without anyone’s help if necessary.

He had gotten help with the job interview though. Knight knew the café owner and had put in a good word, which had been Laurent’s saving grace, because he wouldn’t have known how to search for employment in 2018. For the sake of this job, Laurent had to pretend he’d grown up in a cult to excuse all his shortcomings, and that was embarrassing enough.

As if his life weren’t difficult as it was, Magpie had been serious about moving in with them until Marcel’s hatching, but instead of staying in one of the guest bedrooms like a normal person, he’d had his henchmen create a campsite for him. Since a single tent, no matter how grand, wouldn’t be enough for a man of status, Magpie had several, each with heating and electricity. It was madness, but work would keep Laurent away from their benefactor’s endless questions and awkward attempts at relationship negotiation.

“Again, what is the perfect brewing time for an espresso?” asked the manager, appearing behind Laurent’s back without making the slightest sound.

“Uh, thirty, Mr. Linde.”

The owner of Sweet Break was a man whose age was difficult to guess. There was silver at his temples and the skin at the corners of his eyes showed the slightest hint of crow’s feet, but nothing about his demeanor, body language, or anything else pointed at a mature age. He wore fashionable clothes—or so Knight had told Laurent, because Mr. Linde didn’t look like the majority of people living in Brecon—a moustache with ends that curled up and a coiffed do that was lush toward the top of his head and faded on the sides. He also wouldn’t stop insisting that his employees called him by his given name, which made Laurent extremely uncomfortable each time.

“It’s Kenneth, Laurent. Mr. Linde, ugh,” he said, shuddering. “Stop making me feel like a geezer!”

“Please excuse me, I’m still trying to get the hang of it.”

Mr. Linde patted Laurent’s shoulder. “You’ll get there eventually.” He grinned at Laurent as if he were talking to a puppy with half a brain, but Laurent held back his wrath and hid it behind a smile. He’d had plenty of practice after years toiling for Mr. Barnave.

“I’m a quick learner. Please set me to any task, and as long as I am instructed, I promise to pour my heart and soul into it.”

A young woman with a head of ringlets laughed out loud while placing pastries into a basket on the counter. “Someone’s eager.”

Mr. Linde smiled and squeezed Laurent’s shoulders. “I like an employee who’s proud of their work. We’re opening in two minutes. Tierra, would you take the specials board outside?”

The girl winked at Laurent and grabbed a stand comprised of two chalkboards facing away from one another, before heading off to Brecon’s main street. Sweet Break was a nice place, nothing like the taverns of Laurent’s own time with their dim light, sooty ceilings, and the smell of beer soaked into every single surface.